What news of Boromir, my Lord?
by Daisy Brambleburr
Summary: When Boromir journeys to Rivendell he leaves his pregnant wife behind with only Faramir to care for her. Hearts are broken, questions are left unanswered and Boromir learns that some hidden feelings can result in the ruin of all. AU.
1. Chapter One

What news of Boromir, my Lord?  
  
Summary: Even when he discovers that his wife is pregnant Boromir will not give up his quest, and leaves for Imladris to chase a dream. Delérith is left in Minas Tirith feeling confused and unloved, in the care of Faramir, and Boromir discovers that some hidden feelings can result in the ruin of all.  
  
Authors Note: This is the first time I have incorporated an original character into my fanfiction. I have also never written a romance fic, or a fic that involves Minas Tirith. So this is a new thing for me! I have made it a PG because of angst, which is in later chapters. Disclaimer: LotR is not mine, it belongs to Tolkien. However, Delérith is my character. The story is all written, so expect one to two chapters a week, the title is liable to change if I get any better ideas. Any reviews are appreciated!  
  
Chapter One- Delérith  
  
It was a bright summer's morning on the day that Boromir left Minas Tirith. There was a light breeze flitting through the streets and though the sunlight was clear and bright it did not bring much warmth, for it was early morning and the city was often cold at that hour. I wrapped a cloak around my shoulders as I left the house and made my way down to the great gates. There was a fair sized crowd gathered to see him leave, which was not surprising for he was well liked by his people. Standing to the right of the gates was the ruling Steward, his father, Denethor. He looked grand, if a little imposing, his mouth set in a firm line and a black cloak silhouetting his frame. I had always been a little afraid of him. Standing a pace behind him was his other son, Faramir.  
  
A hush fell about the gathered people as Boromir approached. He was leading his horse, a steed of shining chestnut. He looked grand and bright, different yet at the same time strangely similar to his father. His grey eyes shone in the sunlight, and I could tell from his face that he was looking forward to his journey. He was an adventurous man, who thrived in anything he did. His sword glinted at his side as he walked towards us, and he first stopped in front of his father. I could not hear what was being said, but the farewell as brief and ended in a firm embrace. I saw Faramir's eyes drop to the floor at this point. I knew that Denethor favoured Boromir, and although Faramir tried not to show the hurt it caused him, it showed in his face.  
  
Boromir then approached Faramir and they too embraced, but in a more warm and brotherly way. I knew that Faramir meant a lot to Boromir, but Boromir had insisted that he go on this quest instead of Faramir, who had at first been meant to go. I heard them speak now.  
  
"Boromir, I wish that you would consider it one more time. The way is dangerous and full of doubt. It should not be you going," Faramir said, looking Boromir in the eye.  
  
"My mind is made up." Boromir said firmly.  
  
"In that case, I wish you safe journeying and a speedy return. Remember that your city needs you," Faramir replied, sighing softly at his brother's stubbornness.  
  
"I would like to think that you also would like me to return." Boromir smiled, teasing his brother gently.  
  
Faramir smiled ruefully. "That also, of course. Fare thee well."  
  
Boromir nodded, they clasped hands and he walked on. His eyes were scanning the crowd, and I knew he was looking for me. I stepped out and his eyes rested upon my face.  
  
"Delérith," he murmured, walking up to me swiftly.  
  
We stood facing each other, neither of us sure of what to say. Finally, he planted a kiss on my brow and said; "I shall return, Delérith. In less than a year."  
  
I nodded, looking down at the ground. He did not receive any similar words of farewell from me; my tongue was dry and unmoving. I didn't know what to say.  
  
He looked down at me and understood that I was not going to speak. "Farewell," he said, then he kissed me again and was gone. I watched him walk away with a feeling of hopelessness. I had not told him. I was a coward. As he departed through the gates I stepped out on slightly shaking legs and spoke.  
  
"Boromir," I called out falteringly.  
  
He turned his head, and seeing me he hurried back. He stood in front of me and I opened my mouth, ready to speak. I gasped hopelessly, like a fish out of water, and I was painfully aware of people's eyes upon me.  
  
"What is wrong?" he asked questioningly, seeing the expression upon my face. He gripped both of my arms and turned me to face him. His grey eyes locked into mine, and I had no choice but to look at him.  
  
"I am...I am with a child," I whispered finally.  
  
His expression was frozen for a moment, and I could not tell what he was thinking. He tilted his head downwards so that he was looking away from me, face unmoving and still. Then, after a moment, he lifted it up decisively and kissed me firmly on my cheek.  
  
"Do not worry. I shall return," he said. I saw his gaze rest upon me, and then he turned and was gone.  
  
I stood at the side of the street, staring at the spot where he had been standing only seconds before. I could hear the clatter of his horse's feet as he rode away. I felt a numb feeling of disbelief. Was that it? Did he not care? Why would he not stay with me? I had been so sure that when I told him he would not go. Selfish, I know, but I can not do this alone. Faramir would have gone, he had wanted to. Boromir could have stayed, but he chose not to.  
  
A feeling of realisation flooded over me like cold water. He didn't want to stay. He could have, but he didn't want to. I meant less to him than a dream did. For that was where he was going, chasing dreams that may come to nothing. A stray tear fell down my cheek, and now I did not care who saw me. He doesn't love me, I thought.  
  
He doesn't love me.  
  
*-* 


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two- Delérith  
  
In the weeks and months that followed I had the chance to look back on the time I had spent with Boromir. My father is an important man in Gondor, and he knows Lord Denethor well. Our family is, and always has been, held in high regard, and looking back on everything now I see that I was probably as good and respectful a wife for the future Steward of Gondor as any.  
  
After having words with Faramir after Boromir left I got the impression that Denethor was encouraging the idea of Boromir marrying. I remember Faramir smiling in a slightly grim way as he told me that his father did not care whom he married, he only really cared for Boromir's well-being. Faramir insisted that he could have married a horse for all it mattered to Denethor, but Boromir had to have someone special. I suppose that someone was me.  
  
Our courtship was nothing spectacular, but I was satisfied. We had always known one another, and one day we went out walking together while our fathers were having a long conversation about the well-being of Minas Tirith, locked away surrounded by books and maps for most of the day. After strolling on the Pelennor fields we kissed, and everything carried on from there. Boromir was kind and never less than a gentleman to me, so I continued to see him. We courted for six or seven months after that, but something was never quite right. Boromir was never overly romantic with me, and we did not meet one another as often as was to be expected. Boromir had other interests that competed with me, weapons and fighting and armies, and duties that could not be avoided. Our relationship was never perfect but I learned to live with it or ignore the problem, for both our families strongly encouraged our being together. I could tell they were both silently waiting for us to marry. And we did, in the seventh month of our courtship. Getting married was something I had long dreamt of, and our wedding was very grand. As both of our families were somewhat well off we went without nothing. I had a gown made up for me, such beautiful and unusual food was sent in for the day and everything went without a problem or hitch. Denethor wanted everything perfect for his first born whom he loved so dearly. I knew that Denethor was delighted that his son had found a wife, and he was insistent that we stayed near him, so he provided us with our own quarters in his vast halls. I thought that after we were married Boromir would be more attentive, but it did not happen. On the morning after our wedding I awoke in the room that we were now sharing, and I felt his arms around me. I remember how comfortable and happy I was, and how I didn't ever want to move from where I lay. I thought that was how things would always be, but that was not so. Boromir must have been happy at least for a while; I know that, true happiness is something you cannot fake. He was for the first few days of our marriage, but it slowly wore away from him. The novelty of a new wife did not last long, and things went back to how they had always been. Sometimes I felt lonely, for though it was nice to live in such a large and kingly house I felt that I rattled uncomfortably about the rooms that we lived in, and felt awkward to stray out of them alone. I had convinced myself that marriage would solve our problems; it would bring us together and make him care for me. But we were apart more than we were together; he always seemed to be busy. I often spent the nights alone.  
  
It was a month before Boromir left that I found out that I was with child. I had not wanted to tell him straight away in fear of jinxing it somehow, but when I heard he was leaving I felt I had no other choice. He needed to know, and I secretly hoped that it would draw us closer together and make him stay with me.  
  
I loved him more than either of us knew, and I had wished that he would love me too. Perhaps he did love me a little, but when he left he made his feelings clearer than he had intended.  
  
*-* 


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three- Boromir  
  
A hundred and ten days I journeyed, often weary and utterly alone, through familiar and foreign lands. I had a lot of time to think, and think I did, of the dream that came to me, of Gondor, of my father and Faramir, but mostly of Delérith. Her news on the day that we parted had shocked me, and at the time I could not think clearly. A child? I had not meant for a child, not yet. My father had maybe, but not me. I remembered a time when Delérith told me that he had asked her if we were planning to try for a child. Her face had reddened, and I remember that she had been embarrassed at his forthright manner. He, of course, had thought it to be quite within his rights to ask such a thing. But I was not interested in children at my time in life. I was young and I wanted to know how to fight, how to rule a city, how to wield a sword in battle. The thought of a wife had not crossed my mind until my father brought up the subject one day.  
  
"Do you plan to marry, my son?" he asked in his usual abrupt manner.  
  
I had been surprised at his question, for the thought of marriage had not previously occurred to me.  
  
"Not at present, Father," I had answered.  
  
"Perhaps you should begin to think of it," he continued. "You shall need a wife and a child when you take up the office of Steward."  
  
I had said nothing to that, only nodded. I was in no position to argue. My father is a noble man, but also stern and not to be disagreed with. I wanted to please him so I took what he had said to heart. Although it was against my wishes, I convinced myself that he was right and soon after that I met Delérith. She was attractive and had a nice nature, and I suppose that I did like her well enough. But I never loved her. I have never truly loved anyone, not in that way. Of course I love my father and my brother, but the idea of a wife did not appeal to me. She was constantly being pushed aside by things more important to me. I was learning to become expert in combat, and being tutored in the ways of armies and leading cities. I pushed her away, and I blame myself for that. Maybe I thought if I let the problem lie it would fade away. In my heart I did not want a wife, so I sub-consciously resented her, though it was in no way her fault. I never truly thought of her feelings, and it is only now that I realise what I have done. I do not like the feeling of guilt in my chest, as I know that I have hurt her more than I first thought.  
  
I recall her face, often smiling and happy, for she was that type of person. She tended to be quiet, but clever and kind, going about things in her own individual way. She was pretty also, with grey-blue eyes and brown hair that fell in waves. But why do I say 'was'? She still is, she is in Minas Tirith, waiting for me to return. And I do mean to return. I will go back to Gondor when my errand is complete and look after her and my child, for it is my duty. I know I have not done well in the past, and I am not proud of myself, but when I return things will be set right.  
  
*-* 


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four- Delérith  
  
As winter passed I found myself speaking to Faramir more and more. He became a good friend to me, for I had withdrawn into myself and did not often talk to people. I told him of my pregnancy and he was happy for me, giving me a quick hug and saying that he would be glad to have a niece or nephew in a few months time. It was nice to have support from him, and as I began to feel more comfortable around him I started to open up and tell him of my worries about Boromir. One evening we were sitting in one of the halls of his father's house, talking and drinking together.  
  
"Are you well, my lady?" he had asked when I entered. The weather was cold, so my face was pale and my cloak drawn closely around my body.  
  
"Just cold, thank you," I answered. Faramir was always courteous, and went out of his way to treat me with kindness. I think he had taken it upon himself to look after me while Boromir was gone. He felt responsible; after all, we were brother and sister now in all but blood.  
  
"He has been gone for almost four months now," I stated after he had sat me down with a hot drink.  
  
Faramir knew whom I was referring to at once, for Boromir often came up in our conversations. "Aye, and no word since the message we received a fair while back," he replied. He could not keep the worried expression off his face, and I knew that he still wished that he had gone instead. We sat in silence for a time, me quietly sipping my drink and him staring at the floor, lost in thought.  
  
"What ails you?" I asked him when he had not spoken for some time. His face was troubled and frowning.  
  
"I am thinking that Boromir should be sitting here talking with you and I should be gone. I wish it were that way. The dreams came to me frequently, to him only once," Faramir said, looking up at me. "He is too headstrong, he would not let me, but I should have insisted."  
  
"He has gone now, there is nothing you can do," I responded, instantly feeling stupid for my insensitive response.  
  
"But he should be here with you," he said. "He should not have left you."  
  
"He had to go. I think he knew it himself," I said. I was still making excuses for him, even though he had hurt me. I often went to his defence instinctively without meaning to do so.  
  
"Oh Delérith," he sighed, looking sadly at me. "Do not feel the need to defend him. He is my brother but what he did was wrong."  
  
I still felt a sinking feeling inside of me every time I thought back to what had happened the day Boromir left.  
  
"He does not love me," I said quietly, clasping my hands in my lap. I felt a feeling of hopelessness weigh me down momentarily as I spoke those words. "I cannot condemn him for his feelings alone."  
  
Faramir did not disagree with my statement but leant forward and clasped my hand. "He should not have left you. Do not make allowances for him, he was wrong. My brother does not have a romantic mind, it is focused on more practical matters, but he is still your husband. It is not your fault," he told me firmly.  
  
I bowed my head, but still held on to his hand tightly. "What will happen when he returns? Will he try and force himself to love me, or will he take the child from me?" I instinctively put my hand to my stomach as I thought of the baby growing inside of me, and felt a vague feeling of panic even though I knew that particular doubt was rather far fetched.  
  
Faramir shook his head quickly. "He would not do such a thing. He is not cruel, and he has a good heart. When he returns he will do his best to untie this knot he has created."  
  
I looked up at Faramir. "I hope you are right. I know that he is a good man, that is why I allowed myself to love him. But tell me this. Did your father choose me for him? Did Boromir marry me against his will? If it was not what he wanted then why did it happen at all?" The questions I had been wondering about ever since Boromir left bubbled to the surface at last, and my mind felt somewhat clearer now I had released my doubts.  
  
"I do not fully know the answers, but I shall do my best to tell you all I can," Faramir began. "I do not believe my brother married you against his will; it is not the sort of thing he would do. My father, however, may have influenced him. He always wanted Boromir to marry, although he did not care about me finding a wife. I suspect he spoke to Boromir about the matter and perhaps Boromir felt obliged, for he has always been my father's favourite. Boromir, I think, did like you, and felt he could perhaps grow to love you, so he married you and did nothing to stop the relationship."  
  
I was silent for a time, letting Faramir's information sink in. I suspected he was right about a lot of his speculations. After all, he was Boromir's brother and knew him well, better than anyone else. But even though my questions had been answered as well as they could be at this time, I still felt empty inside. I needed Boromir to come back. I needed to speak with my husband.  
  
I leant back in my chair, suddenly feeling very drained and weary. "When will he return?" I sighed, voicing my thoughts but not expecting anyone to answer.  
  
"I hope he will not linger," Faramir replied, "and I hope that we will receive word from him soon. I worry about him, for he is my brother and I miss him deeply."  
  
I did not reply. Did I miss him? Not so much miss him as desire for him to return. I had the feeling that he walked away with unanswered questions, just like the ones he had left me with.  
  
*-* 


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five- Boromir  
  
In Lothlorien I had time and peace of mind enough to lend my mind completely to my thoughts. The fair and peaceful land had eased the whisperings of the Ring on my mind, and once again thoughts of Delérith came back to me. For a while the memories of her had been crowded out, for I was surrounded by seven other people and had other things to think about. Now I knew I was closer to home and soon would be on my way back, with or without the rest of the company and the Ring. I now had the answers; I had discovered the meaning of the dream, and now I knew my place was in Gondor. War would be coming to us soon, and I would be needed. With a jolt my thoughts suddenly turned to my child. It was odd thinking of myself as a father. I counted off on my fingers. I had left in early September, five months ago. For all I knew the child could have been born by now. I felt a sudden lump in my throat, and for the first time I felt myself properly missing her. I recalled memories and comforted myself with thoughts of happier times. I thought of when we ate together, how she sat across from my father and spoke with him. I liked having her with us when we dined in the evening, for she lightened the mood that had occasionally turned dark when my father turned on Faramir. Having her there turned his attention away, for he liked her and did not notice when she subtly humoured him. I knew that Faramir liked her being there too, for he could eat in peace without my father's critical eye on him constantly. I remembered the times I had returned home late, and slipped into our room without lighting a candle. Sometimes she woke, and asked me how my day had been. Even though her eyes were bleary with sleep she sat up and spoke with me, but I was often tired and wanted nothing more than to fall asleep. I felt guilty as I unwittingly recollected the times I had tried to be as quiet as I could, not because of her but because of me, because I had wanted just to sleep and could not bring myself to talk with her that night.  
  
I had not spoken to anyone about Delérith, preferring to keep my thoughts to myself. The matter of the child preyed on my mind. I did not resent it as I once had done, and I found myself with an even deeper longing to go back to Minas Tirith to see them.  
  
"Things need to be set right. Things will be set right," I said decisively, speaking out loud without meaning to.  
  
"What will be set right?" a voice asked from above me.  
  
I turned my head and looked in the direction of the voice. Samwise the hobbit was standing at the top of the bank on which I had been leaning.  
  
I smiled at the hobbit's inquisitiveness. "Things back in my city," I answered after a moments thought.  
  
Sam made his way carefully down the bank, and then hovered in front of me, obviously uncertain whether to sit with me or not.  
  
"Come, Master Hobbit," I said, patting the earth alongside me. Sam grinned and sat down at once.  
  
We talked for a short while about Sam's home, the Shire. He spoke animatedly, telling me the names of his extensive family and talking happily about the hills and trees of his homeland. I was soon lost in his descriptions for the many names confused me, but I found it pleasant to sit back and let his words rush over me like a smoothly flowing river. I could tell that he loved his home dearly. Then the subject of Minas Tirith came up.  
  
"Do you have a wife back at your city?" Sam asked, looking at me innocently.  
  
"Yes, I have a wife," I replied. It felt odd to speak those words.  
  
"What is she called?" Sam continued.  
  
"Her name is Delérith." I had not spoken her name since I left the gates of Minas Tirith and saying it again bought back memories of her. It felt like it somehow opened a door in my mind and caused memories and thoughts of her to flow freely, unlike they had ever done before. I realized what a fool I had been. I should never have left.  
  
"I do not think I should have left her behind," I said finally. "She was to bear a child."  
  
Sam said nothing, only nodded. I think he realised that he had touched on a sensitive subject.  
  
"I did not treat her in the manner she deserved. When I left I thought I did not love her, but now I find myself with feelings I did not know I possessed."  
  
I paused for a time and stared ahead of me, lost in my thoughts. Then I turned and looked at Sam, and let out a laugh when I saw his expression. "I fear that you got more than you bargained for when you asked me about my city. Do you have anyone waiting for you back in the Shire?"  
  
Sam coloured and looked down at his feet. "Well, there is this one lass," he said, stammering slightly.  
  
"Yes?" I prodded, playfully pressing him for answers. I had not done that sort of thing since I had spoken to Faramir, and for a moment I almost felt like I was back with him.  
  
"Her name is Rosie," Sam admitted, blushing crimson. "She is the prettiest hobbit in the Shire, and the nicest too. Too good for me."  
  
I clapped him on the shoulder and climbed to my feet.  
  
"You are a fine hobbit, Samwise. Any lass would be lucky to have you," I said as I looked down at his round face with its big eyes and happy expression. I made as if to say more, but then stopped myself, unsure of what my words should be. In the end I just smiled at him and strode off into the woods.  
  
I felt better after that talk. Speaking of Delérith, for even as little time as that, had cleared my head somewhat of its jumble of thoughts. All I knew now was that I had to get back to Minas Tirith and give her the support she deserved.  
  
*-* 


	6. Chapter Six

Authors Note: I am no medical expert, so I apologize if the details in the next few chapters are not correct. Also, thank you so much to my reviewers. You've all been very supportive and encouraging. Your comments make my day.  
  
Chapter Six- Delérith  
  
Boromir had now been gone for over six months, and the baby inside me was growing fast. I was nearing the end of my pregnancy and was becoming more and more anxious about him. I needed him back with me. It no longer mattered to me whether he did or did not love me. His child would soon be born.  
  
I had taken to asking Faramir for news every time I saw him. Boromir had told me he would be gone a year, and I inwardly prayed that he was on his way home. Faramir seemed to be my only link with him, and I now saw him every two or three days. We often went walking together in the city. He helped me with my errands and let me use the vast libraries in his father's halls, which I had loved. I had not been before because of the possibility of meeting Denethor. He was a strange man, and in a way I liked him, even though I did not disagree with many of his thoughts. But I laughed at his jokes (they were seldom, and often not funny) and nodded politely when he spoke. But I could not stop myself from resenting him, for his dislike for Faramir, unfounded and false though it was, frustrated me.  
  
My first words to Faramir were always 'what news of Boromir, my Lord?' He would shake his head in a silent reply, and I had learned not to raise my hopes too much every time the words sprang from my lips. Somehow, our meetings seemed to get me through the days. Maybe it was because I saw parts of Boromir's personality inside of him, or simply because he treated me well, but I began to find myself looking forward to the time when I would see Faramir again.  
  
He had taken me to the Houses of Healing, and I knew that my baby would be coming soon. The nine months were almost up and I began to grow desperate for Boromir to return. Faramir did his best to calm and soothe me and was a great help, but I needed Boromir back. I was ruffled and uneasy almost all of the time, and I don't fully know how Faramir coped with me.  
  
It was on February the 23rd that I saw Faramir, the last time before the baby was born. I knew that the birth was close, I could sense it somehow. Courteous as ever, he sat me down and we had a light-hearted and jovial conversation. It felt good to laugh as if my cares had flown away from me, and it was a rare pleasure to retire with a light heart.  
  
Then, on the 24th of February, the labour began. It was late in the evening and dark had fallen. I was eating a late supper with Faramir before retiring to my own bedchambers for the night. As I walked from the room I felt a sharp pain in my stomach and fell to the floor, gasping in anguish.  
  
Poor Faramir, he wasn't sure what to do, and I constantly felt bad for making him deal with it. He carried me to my room, lay me on the bed and made me as comfortable as he knew how. Someone ran for a healer, and they arrived soon after. I was in terrible pain, worse than I had expected. Something was wrong with the baby, but I honestly didn't know what, for I did not have the concentration or patience at that time to listen to their conversations. I was exhausted and sweat was pouring from my brow. Faramir sat by me, stroking my hair, unsure of himself. I gripped his hand tightly when the pain came, but I still couldn't stop myself thinking that he should not have to be sitting there. Boromir should be with me. My heart felt heavy and black again. After many long and hard hours the baby was finally born. I caught the healer exclaiming happily 'it's a girl!' and the baby's cries drifting towards me. Then my eyes clouded over and I blacked out.  
  
I awoke about an hour later. Dawn was just breaking but the room was still dark and shadowy, as it is at that hour. Everything was quiet compared to the pain and chaos of earlier, and I felt dizzy, weak and sick. No one was in the room except Faramir, sitting in a chair in the corner. When I opened my eyes he moved to my side swiftly.  
  
"Where is my baby?" I whispered, my voice weak and pathetic.  
  
"She is lying in a crib, by the window. She is very small but doing well," Faramir replied, nodding his head to where the baby lay. I tried to look, but I found that I couldn't lift my head from the pillow.  
  
"What is wrong with me?" I asked, and I felt foolish tears come to my eyes.  
  
Faramir grasped my hand. "They say you have lost a lot of blood." His voice trailed off as if there was more to it than he had said.  
  
I noticed the worried look in his eyes and knew at once that everything was not as it should be.  
  
"Faramir," I whispered, my voice shaking. But I could not say anymore, and then the tears came. All the pain and the hurt of the last months flooded out of me and I wept bitterly, for I knew that I was not well and Faramir was not telling me everything. He did not speak, only stroked my shoulder comfortingly. When the tears stopped I shut my eyes, feeling embarrassed and exhausted.  
  
"I am sorry," I said weakly. "This isn't meant for you at all. This is Boromir's child. Why is he not here? We all need him." My voice dried up and I was unable to speak anymore.  
  
No words came from Faramir, but when I opened my heavy eyes I saw that tears glistened in his eyes also. He turned to look at me and wiped them away abruptly when he saw my eyes upon him.  
  
"You've been so strong," I whispered, feeling gratitude welling up inside of me as I looked upon his face.  
  
"So have you," he replied. He then kissed me gently on the hand and quietly left the room.  
  
I lay silent for a while, feeling weighted down by sadness. Then the weary feeling overcame me and I slipped into sleep.  
  
*-* 


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven- Delérith  
  
I fell in and out of sleep for the next few days. I was not recovering, and although they tried to hide it from me so I would not worry or despair I could see it in their expressions every time they looked in my direction. My father sat with me but he was a busy man and we did not always get along. Since I had married Boromir we had not seen each other very much. My mother had died when I was just four years old, and since then we had always been distant with one another. Our relationship was formal rather than loving. Although he had never said it, I knew that he had always secretly longed for a son. I was frequently a disappointment to him, and perhaps the only worthy thing I did was marrying Boromir. I was beginning to understand how Faramir must have felt when Denethor favoured Boromir over him.  
  
On the eve of the 26th day of February Faramir came into my room with a troubled expression on his face. I was feeling no better, I hadn't eaten for days and I had not been able to hold, or barely look at my baby, for I could not find the strength to sit myself up.  
  
"What ails you?" I asked softly, looking up at him.  
  
He passed his hand to his forehead, looking perplexed. "I heard a strange sound, an hour or so ago. Did you not hear anything?"  
  
I moved my head slightly in a shaking motion.  
  
"I thought..." He paused, unsure if he should carry on. "I thought I heard Boromir's horn sound."  
  
His words took a moment to sink in, but when they did I felt a sudden jolt of realization inside my stomach. The hope that had been lying dormant inside of me rekindled itself at his words.  
  
"Was it close?" I asked, my words hurried. His news had startled me, and although I wanted to hear more I was scared at the same time, though I did not know why.  
  
"No, only very faint. I was not sure if my mind was playing tricks on me," Faramir replied.  
  
I did not speak again. The information was almost too much for me. I had grown so used to not hearing of Boromir that any tidings of him came as a shock. His horn had been heard in the city. Then surely he must be close. But why was it being blown? A celebration on homecoming or...I bit my lip, doubt leaking into my mind. Maybe the horn was blown for a different reason. Was he in trouble? I remembered the horn that he hung from his belt, and the time I had asked about it. He had shown it to me, and told me its story. 'It is an heirloom, from my father. If it is blown in a time of need then help of some sort will come. But I let it sound when I leave for a journey.' I wondered if the Horn of Gondor had been blown as he left, so many months ago.  
  
I lay quiet and still, running over things in my mind until everything became jumbled and knotted together. I had forgotten Faramir's presence until he spoke.  
  
"I shall not be here tonight. I must go to Osgiliath and keep watch on the banks of the river. Enemies are drawing near." He touched my hand briefly, and then I heard his footsteps leave the room. I stared at the ceiling, feeling miserable and confused. As the night closed in I felt my head burn painfully and uncomfortably. In those moments it was hard for me to comprehend my feelings. I missed him being there, I missed his comforting presence and his soft voice. But whom was I missing? I had grown so used to being without Boromir and my heart ached for him constantly, but sometimes I found myself desiring Faramir's presence as well. I tried to think rationally. Of course it was Boromir that I was missing. I loved him. He was my husband. Why would I miss Faramir? I sighed and turned onto my side, my forehead throbbing uncomfortably. Did it matter who I missed? I was alone again.  
  
I must have fallen asleep but I awoke in the night feeling feverish and disorientated. I reached out with a weak hand for the cup of water that sat on the table beside my bed and held it to my lips. I sank back on the pillows, feeling exhausted after so little effort. My head was pounding and I thankfully closed my eyes, glad for the soothing darkness that engulfed my sight. As I drifted away again thoughts of Boromir entered my head. Was he really coming back? I hardly dared to believe it. And then what? I mentally shook my head, feeling overwhelmed. Maybe I would soon find out.  
  
*-* 


	8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight- Delérith  
  
I was feeling no better. I found myself growing used to the sea of anxious faces that surrounded me, healers giving me mixtures of herbs, trying to make me more comfortable. I was still in my own bed, for no one had tried to move me since the birth. I was not well enough, apparently. I could not bring myself to eat. The very sight of food seemed repulsive to me. Even a weak smell made me feel queasy, and I was sick a few times, vomiting painfully into a basin. I was finding it hard to keep even water down.  
  
As I lay back listlessly on the pillows the door creaked open and someone stepped into the room. I turned my head as well as I could, and I saw Faramir standing in the doorway. His face looked pale and drawn.  
  
He stood still and unmoving, his mouth open as if he wanted to speak but no words would come. I felt the familiar feeling of foreboding in my chest, and I clenched the bed sheets between my white fingers, feeling anxious though I did not know why.  
  
He crossed over to me and knelt down by my bed. He took my hand in both of his and held it tightly.  
  
"What news of Boromir, my Lord?" I whispered, hardly daring to speak. I think I already knew in my heart. It had been written in Faramir's eyes as he walked into the room.  
  
"He is dead." His voice caught in his throat as he spoke, and he lowered his eyes to the floor.  
  
I opened my mouth but no cry came out. My eyes did not mist over, but my fingers resumed their tense hold on the sheets, white and stiff. My whole body felt frozen, like my emotions were trapped inside of me. I took a quavering breath and the air passed over my cracked lips and down my dry throat. Then I felt something wash over me, a cold, heartless wash of sadness and grief. I became aware of Faramir's strong hold on my hand, and I suddenly fell haphazardly into his arms. He held me tight as I wept, resting his chin on the top of my head. At that moment I felt love for him, not passionate love, the sort I had once felt for Boromir, but the love I would give to a brother. For he had been a brother to me in those long months of loneliness. I cared for him deeply. I then thought of Boromir and all that would never be. He had a daughter and she would never see her father. He never had the chance to look upon her face, and I never had the chance to say a proper farewell. My thoughts went back to the gates, so long ago yet so clear in my mind. I remembered his face and how grand he had been. I thought of his grey eyes and the way they had shone and of his walk, determined and strong as he walked away from me forever.  
  
At last I pulled away from Faramir, whose face was also damp with tears.  
  
"What happened?" I asked, my face damp and voice shaking as sobs still threatened to come to the surface.  
  
"His funeral boat passed me as I was sitting by the river late last night. He was wounded and a broken sword lay on his lap. I let him pass on down the river. His face..." Faramir stopped for breath. "So fair, so grand." He then fell silent.  
  
I shut my eyes. My hands were shaking and I shivered even though I was not cold. Faramir clasped my hand and his grip felt warm and strong against mine. Overcome by weariness, I slept for a time, unable to separate fact from reality anymore. It was all just too much.  
  
When I awoke it was late afternoon and a weak sun was filtering in through my windows. I could not take any comfort from it. I turned my head towards the wall and stared without seeing at the stark white stone. I could not determine the amount of time that I lay there, and I did not care. Nothing mattered to me anymore.  
  
Later on Faramir walked into my room. I was facing away from him but his footsteps had become familiar to me, quiet and sure. He put a hand on my shoulder as he sat down beside me.  
  
"My Lady."  
  
I did not answer. I clenched my jaw and stared harder at the wall.  
  
"Please," he pleaded, his voice faltering. "Don't turn your head to the wall."  
  
"It is all over," I said, my voice rasping in my dry throat. "He is dead."  
  
"But you are not," he replied. "Your child needs you. We all need you."  
  
I tilted my face so that it was facing upwards. I felt tears sting at my eyes, but I hastily blinked them away. I looked upon Faramir's kindly face and shook my head.  
  
"I am dying," I said. That was the first time I even thought that maybe my illness was to claim my life. But I was not getting better. The healers had been telling me that I would be fine, but their smiles seemed forced and their eyes were sad. A feeling of hopelessness and despair welling up inside me. "I have no will left to hold on with."  
  
Faramir swallowed hard. "You must try. Please. You can get well again."  
  
"It is useless. I cannot carry on." The pain in my chest was growing. I couldn't tell if it was grief or something else, but it did not matter to me. "You cannot support me forever. You have a life to live, and I am not a part of it. Boromir is dead. I waited for him, but he left me. This life holds nothing for me anymore."  
  
"But your baby, Delérith," Faramir persisted hopelessly.  
  
I had a moment of doubt. Somewhere in my mind a small chink of light shone through the blackness that had engulfed my mind. My child... our child. But why start a family? How could I have a family without Boromir? At that time I cared for nobody. The one thing that I had been holding onto all this time had gone. In my grief I could see no other way.  
  
"Please," I begged, looking into Faramir's eyes beseechingly. "Take care of my baby. She will need someone. Will you help me?"  
  
Faramir nodded slowly. "If it is your wish." He then got up and walked over to the baby's cradle. He gently picked up the bundle of blankets and brought her to me. I weakly lifted my hand and stroked her forehead, looking upon her face, which was lost in sleep. She was so soft, so new, so delicate. I let my arm drop back to the bed.  
  
Faramir carefully returned the sleeping baby to the cradle, letting his eyes linger for a moment on her peaceful form before returning to my side.  
  
"She's beautiful," I murmured, gazing over at the crib.  
  
"So are you," he whispered to me. He kissed me gently on the forehead and then turned away and walked from the room, tears glistening like crystals as they ran silently down his face.  
  
*-* 


	9. Chapter Nine

Authors Note: I'd just like to say thank you to all of my reviewers, your comments and especially your praise mean a lot to me. This piece of fanfiction is probably; I think I completed it in one afternoon. I became very involved with the characters and the story, and really took Delérith to my heart, strange as it may sound. So I really enjoyed writing this, a shower of thanks for anyone who's reviewed, and to my proof-reader also, who checked this over and helped me with the ending.  
  
Chapter Nine- Faramir  
  
The next morning she was gone.  
  
I made my way to her room early, secretly afraid of what I might find. I pushed open the heavy oak door slowly and stepped inside, its creak reverberating in the stone halls. My eyes rested upon an empty bed. I stood still, my hand upon the brass doorknob, fingers clenching it tightly, though I did not realise. I looked at the bed with sad eyes. It sat against the wall in the corner of the room, almost defiant in its bareness. I blinked, and in my minds eye I saw her again, be it only for a moment. Her dark hair was spilling over the pillow, her face was pale and thin, but her eyes were open and alive. She looked at me, but I could do nothing. I felt cold and my breath caught in my throat as her eyes looked into mine. Then my vision faltered, and I was brought back to the present. I could feel the cold metal of the doorknob beneath my fingers, and again I looked upon the bed. The sheets were white and cold, pushed back and folded up heartlessly. I felt a sudden heavy feeling in my chest.  
  
Then I heard footsteps behind me, and I felt the heavy weight of a hand upon my shoulder. I turned my head and saw my father looking into the room. His face was as cold and expressionless as stone; his jaw was set as though he was not allowing his pain to show. He had been like that since Boromir had died.  
  
"I am sorry," he said stiffly. "She died in the night. The childbirth must have hurt her more than we thought. The healers said there was nothing they could do. "  
  
He patted me softly on the shoulder, obviously unsure of how to comfort me. I made no movement towards him. He withdrew his hand, turned and left me alone.  
  
Somehow, I do not remember when or how, I left my spot and walked blindly, with no purpose or direction to my steps. I ended on the riverbank at the spot where I had seen Boromir's boat. The rushes sighed quietly in the wind and the water rushed endlessly past me as I sat and thought of things that had passed. The people that I held dear, all gone. My mother died when I was a boy, and now Boromir and Delérith. What would have happened if I had gone instead of Boromir, on his journey of so long ago? I shook my head slowly. It is impossible to fathom what might have been. Things could have been different, but maybe not for the better.  
  
Then I thought of their child, back in Minas Tirith. It was my responsibility now. Delérith had asked me to care for her, and I would honour my promise. I got up from the ground decisively and made my way back to the city, my footfalls still heavy but this time with a path to tread.  
  
The funeral was held the next day at sunset. They buried her body in a mound on the Pelennor fields. Not a great number came, for she did not seem to have many friends after Boromir left. I stood in the shadows, my hood cast over my face. When everyone else had gone I stood in front of her grave staring at the damp and still earth which covered it. It was a cold day and the biting wind seemed to match my feelings. I could not think of any words that could fit what I was thinking, so I stood silently for some time, my cloak blowing in the wind as I stared at the mound of earth in front of me.  
  
"Rest easy," I said finally, speaking under my breath as I thought of her. "May you find peace."  
  
After taking a last glance at her grave I turned and left, not to look back again. I returned to the city and to the Houses of Healing, where my father had sent her baby to be cared for. They led me to her, and I gently cradled her in my arms, looking down upon her fair face. "You have the eyes of your father," I murmured as I gazed at her, "but the beauty of your mother."  
  
I was glad that the baby was to stay with me, for she was my niece and I cared for her greatly. As she grew older her resemblance to Delérith was almost uncanny, but every time her grey eyes smiled at me it was almost as if Boromir was there, laughing and alive.  
  
And so the years passed. The shadow was overthrown and at last peace and hope came back to our world. The King had returned, and the lands were healed again. Now the war is over, and I have found happiness, something that I thought had long forsaken me. There is still pain, pain when I think of my brother and of Delérith, and my father. Some wounds will never truly heal. But life carries on, heedless of pain or suffering. I have found love, my beautiful wife Éowyn whom I adore with all my heart. But I still carry hope for Boromir and Delérith, deep inside of me. A little thought, a whisper in my mind that tells me that, beyond the death, which is the fate of all men, Boromir and Delérith have at last made their peace.  
  
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The End  
  
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